


Seven People John Sheppard Never Fed to the Wraith

by tzzzz



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Ending, Episode Related, Episode: s04e09 Miller's Crossing, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-02
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 04:03:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1027017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzzzz/pseuds/tzzzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode tag/alternate endings to Miller's Crossing.  Seven other ways to solve the Wraith dietary requirements problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sergeant Jim Freeberg

Sergeant Freeberg is surrounded by machines, all beating steadily, sounding like water droplets in this suddenly calm section of the infirmary. John looks down on him, but doesn't stand right up close to the rail like he might for Ronon or Teyla or Rodney. This man won't benefit from his presence. He's not likely to benefit at all.  
  
John feels responsible for each and every one of his men, yes. And he'll do almost anything to protect his people. But as much as he tries to stay objective, he doesn't know this man, a new arrival, barely broken in to Pegasus, which is probably why he's lying here. John's not a good enough man not to thank whatever force might drive the universe for making this an easy decision, even if he knows that it will never be a guiltless one.  
  
"It was a simple hit to the head," Keller says, stepping close and giving him one of her trademark brave smiles. "Sometimes that's all it takes."  
  
"So he has a skull fracture?"  
  
"He has an intercrainial bleed."  
  
"What Elizabeth had?"  
  
Keller nods. Her looks of sympathy aren't calculated, but they are practiced. Though John still misses Carson like a throbbing ache deep in his chest, he can admit that he likes her style better. You could read every death and every regret in Carson's clear blue eyes, but Jennifer Keller is like John. She's wise enough to know that some things must either be forgotten or compartmentalized or hidden, because living constantly on the cusp of emotion in a rational business like theirs can only hurt you. It certainly won't make any of the choices you inevitably have to make any easier.  
  
Keller takes in a deep breath, "We could pursue the same line of treatment we did with Dr. Weir."  
  
"No."  
  
"But Doctor McKay--"  
  
"Doctor McKay acted without my authorization last time. And what happened with Elizabeth doesn't change the fact that it's still a risk we can't take."  
  
Keller nods, as though she knew the answer already. She's upset, and he can see what's burning on the tip of her tongue - that, unlike Elizabeth, this lowly marine isn't worth it to anyone. But she keeps it to herself, and John respects her for that, tucking away the arguments that the Sergeant was willing to give his life for his country, that his death will have more purpose than most that die in wars, the number of lives it might save, the fact that the man won't feel anything. He'll save these arguments for the hearing, if there ever is one. "He has a living will," she replies, voice even and almost clinical, now. "He doesn't want to be kept on life support if there's no hope of recovery."  
  
"And I take it there  _is_  no hope?"  
  
"Without the nanites, brain death is probably hours, if not minutes, away."  
  
John nods, not bothering to hide his grimace. "Can a Wraith still feed after brain death?"  
  
Keller nods. "The Wraith feed off a variety of irreplaceable nutrients at a cellular level; consciousness shouldn't have an effect on that."  
  
"Can he be moved?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
She doesn't question him. Even after she turns her head away and gasps during the feeding, and looks on the verge of vomiting when she packs the corpse neatly away, she doesn't question him, and John is grateful; he can't express how much.  
  
"Flavorless," the Wraith remarks when they are once again standing alone together.  
  
"Beggars can't be choosers," John mumbles, surprised when the Wraith responds with a laugh.


	2. Chen Xunxi

Even, Woolsey, the constant bureaucrat, is look uncomfortable, fidgeting in his seat and looking grim. In any other circumstance, John would feel smug at the other man's nervousness. Woolsey is an asshole and a thorn in their side and he deserves to feel nervous around people he's been keeping from doing their jobs.  
  
"The IOA has made a decision about the Wraith."  
  
"It's not your decision to make," John starts in automatically.  
  
"No, it wasn't my decision whether or not to cooperate with the Wraith, apparently, but now that we're in this deep and my superiors have committed to this course of action, we have no choice but to consider the implications of  _your_  decision. I assume you've already discussed the subject of what to feed our guest?"  
  
John shoots Colonel Carter a look. It's the subject they've been avoiding for weeks now, not because they aren't considering the possibilities, but because they can't seem to find a single one they can present as an acceptable option. They're too similar, the two of them. John tries not to think of how Elizabeth would have made a decision by now. She would have either resigned herself to letting the Wraith die with the moral authority to justify it or she would've done what nobody wanted to do and picked the best from a list of equally gruesome possibilities. But Carter is like John: too spoiled by the last minute heroic reprieve to resist the urge to hold out for a better solution.  
  
So this, perhaps, is the use of the IOA, though John's not sure it's worth the rest of their bullshit.  
  
"And what solution do you propose?" Carter asks, doing her best not to look as relieved as John feels.  
  
"It's being delivered as we speak."  
  
Through the glass walls of Elizabeth's old office, they can see the wormhole jump to life, several MPs stroll through, a man in an orange jumpsuit held between them. If he's wondering about traveling across the galaxy through a gateway seemingly made of water, the man doesn't show it. He looks around dazedly, handcuffed hands held passively in front of him.  
  
"Meet Chen Xunxi, China's latest contribution to the Stargate program." As usual, John wants to strangle the dry flippancy out of Woolsey, but he restrains himself. "He's been convicted of an estimated thirty violent murders of young women and children, as well as an attempt on the life of a Chinese civil servant, and was awaiting death by hanging in Hanzhou."  
  
"And you want to feed him to the Wraith? Isn't that cruel and unusual punishment?" Carter asks, though John can tell she regrets the words the second they're out of her mouth.  
  
"I don't  _want_  to do any of this. But unless you think we can afford to let the Wraith die, I don't see that we have a choice. If you need to convince yourself, I have a copy of his criminal record on this disk here." He hands a CD to Carter. "I can only assure you that if anyone deserves it, it's this man."  
  
  


***

  
  
  
The crime scene photos are the worst. There's more blood splattered against the white wall of the room than John thinks could possibly come from a human body. The girl's intestines are hanging on a lampshade, like the killer has channeled Jack the Ripper as his own personal decorator. The file says that the last five victims were raped before they were murdered and several of the crime scenes contained obvious semen stains.  
  
John doesn't imagine that detective work in China resembles anything like what he's seen on CSI, but in this case, there were DNA tests confirming Chen Xunxi's guilt. And doubts about the harsh and possibly corrupt nature of the Chinese criminal system aside, there is no doubt that in any culture, in any country, this man is guilty and deserving of the harshest of punishments.  
  
And yet, John can't get the blood-raw timbre of his scream out of his head.


	3. Fido

"Next time, you get to be the bait," John complains, though that doesn't stop him from leaning into Rodney for support. He can't put any weight on his left leg, and sadly, he's not the only casualty of this little SNAFU - Roberts is going home in a body bag and it's looking like Lorne is going to be in for yet another concussion.  
  
"Please," Rodney rolls his eyes. "what a waste of my genius. Next time, just let Ronon do it like he asked. You're getting too old for this, you know."  
  
John resents that, but his witty comeback is swallowed by a small whimper when his foot catches on a tree root, almost tripping Rodney and sending a wave of fire up his injured leg.  
  
"Or perhaps, there will be no need of a next time," Teyla remarks calmly from where she's guiding Lorne towards the jumper. Ronon and five of John's marines are guarding/dragging the unconscious Wraith. John'll send someone back from Roberts.  
  
"No," Rodney replies, determined, "I'll get the coding finished before there'll be a next time."  
  
"That a promise, McKay?" John gasps, because he really doesn't think he can do this again. It's too much of a gamble, and he can't risk any more of his men's lives on the chance of an ethical meal for their enemy. They'll have to find another way.  
  
"No, it's not a promise," Rodney snaps. "But I  _am_  a genius, so I'm 99.9% sure that it's doable." He gulps. "Completely doable."  
  
John lets them settle him in beside Lorne on one of the back benches while Johnson flies them home. He eyes the Wraith across from him suspiciously, though the thing doesn't even twitch. Then again, it's impossible to tell if it's conscious behind the faceless carapace.  
  
"Fido," John rasps.  
  
"Sir?" Lorne asks, tilting drunkenly to the side until he's resting on John's shoulder. John doesn't bother to move him.  
  
"The Wraith, Major," John gestures across from him. "I think we're going to call this charming stray Fido."  
  
"Whatever you say, Sir," Lorne slurs sleepily, snuffling against John's shoulder in a way that might have been endearing if the man were five years old. John's too tired to correct it, however. He'll give the man with the head injury what little comfort he can, giving Waters the death glare when he looks like he might laugh.  
  
"Hey, how come you've named all the rest of them, but not the guy - the one that we've got to feed this one to?"  
  
John feels his hands ball up into a fist almost of their own accord. He hates head wounds and the way they make certain majors say things they'd never dare to otherwise. But now he's got his men watching him, listening while keeping their gaze focused on the captured wraith. Even Rodney stops babbling at Teyla long enough to make the expectant silence almost deafening.  
  
"This one already has a name."  
  
"You know it?" Rodney turns and asks, intrigued. And John always hates this bug-under-the-microscope feeling that is Rodney in those rare moments when all his attention is focused on you.  
  
"No," because there's something oddly personal in that. John's not sure anyone else would understand. He sure he couldn't possibly explain it to them. But luckily, he's saved by the bell, or at least the wormhole and Johnson's smooth landing.  
  
By the time John manages to hobble out of the jumper, a security detail has already whisked Fido off to one of the holding cells, and Colonel Carter and Dr. Keller are waiting for him.  
  
"Lorne's got a concussion," John offers immediately in his defense, not without noticing the stern look Keller's giving him.  
  
"One the gurney, Colonel, no ifs ands or buts." Keller pats one of the waiting gurneys invitingly, nodding at her team to bring another before heading into the back of the jumper to tend to Lorne.  
  
"We need to send a team back for Roberts," John says, chin held high and letting his eyes tell Colonel Carter exactly what happened.  
  
She nods, regretfully. "I'm headed down to see that our prisoner is settled. Is there anything else I should know before the debrief?"  
  
John shakes his head.  
  
"Be good for Doctor Keller," Carter remarks, though it's gentler than the way John always thought Elizabeth was channeling his mother.  
  
"I'm always good," John replies, though they both know that's far, far from the truth.  
  
  


***

  
  
John thanks his lucky stars that it's just a dislocated hip. It hurts like hell, of course, but after popping it back into the socket, there's not a lot Keller can do to him other than shoot him full of muscle relaxants and pain meds and order him to stay off it.  
  
He hates to show this much weakness in front of the Wraith, but he'd rather do that than not be there at all, so he swings himself over to their prisoner's cell to find the Wraith snarling at Carter from where he's crouched in a corner, paler than usual and sweaty with hunger.  
  
"John," Carter acts surprised and a little frustrated. "I thought you'd be resting in the infirmary."  
  
John eyes the Wraith that once both took his life and gave it back and Fido, who they've bound tight and left lying at the first Wraith's feet like the sacrificial offering that he is.  
  
"Didn't want to miss the show."  
  
The Wraith snarls at that, sending John the first truly hateful glare John's seen from him. He's been frustrated, yes, but the depth of spite in his gaze far surpasses anything John's seen since he sent a bullet through the hand of the red-haired keeper four years ago. And yet, in people, hate is something reserved only for creatures capable of betrayal. For food, humans too, feel only instinctual indifference.  
  
"What? Not fresh enough for you?"  
  
"I thought you had a sense of honor, Sheppard."  
  
"I do, and it's the sense that tells me that I couldn't possibly sacrifice one of my own to keep you alive."  
  
"Not one of your own," the Wraith gasps, still managing to turn away from the food offering just an arm's length away. "But like Wraith, you must have enemies. The man, Kolya."  
  
"Dead."  
  
"You killed him." It's not a question. "Another of his people, then. You were happy to let me feed off his guards. There must be someone you wish dead."  
  
John steps, as best he can, up to the door of the cage and in, ignoring the way Carter flinches just slightly, and the nagging reminder in his head that if the Wraith were to attack him now, his injury would prevent him from getting away. "I know what a feeding feels like, remember?"  
  
"How could I forget? Your defiance was exquisite." John doesn't need to see Carter's face to know that behind him, she's wincing. There something sick and almost seductive about the way the Wraith says it, like Hannibal Lector talking about his latest recipe.  
  
"I wouldn't wish that on even my worst enemy."  
  
"You ask me to violate our greatest taboo. Even our enemies ... surely your kind do not eat the flesh of your defeated."  
  
"I know Wraith who've done it. I know that you can."  
  
The Wraith slams his hand against the bars of the cell, in a surprising show of strength that makes even John stumble back in shock. "For survival only! In the most desperate of situations!"  
  
"And what makes you think this situation isn't desperate?"


	4. Nabel Golan

John's not hiding from Teyla so much as he's strategically retreating from her at every opportunity he can find. The thing is, he knows that he's no good at offering comfort and he's pretty sure that Teyla knows this, but that doesn't mean it will be any less awkward and ineffective if he's forced to try.  
  
Her people are missing and even though he'd hugged her and told her he'd help her find them, the only man with a chance in hell of helping them won't talk. He won't even acknowledge their presence down in the brig, no matter how many times Ronon threatens him, or Teyla comes out of the room frustrated or near tears. Even the patchwork of bruises and the built in shocking system of the Ancient holding cells have revealed nothing.  
  
"You're not going to get anything out of him," Rodney says, shuffling down his third pudding cup of the evening. "He's a religious fanatic, i.e., completely batshit insane. Unless you can get the SGC to get ahold of one of those Tok'ra memory devices, or get a replicator to stick a spiky metal hand into his forehead, you're not going to learn anything."  
  
And that's when it hits him. It's twisted and horrible and John hates himself the second he's thought of it, but it's too good a plan to ignore, now that he knows he's sick enough to come up with it. "But we have someone who can read minds."  
  
"Yeah, of Wraith."  
  
"The Wraith read Colonel Sumner's mind when she fed on him," John replies.  
  
"No," Rodney pauses, spoon full of pudding hanging indecisively five inches from his mouth. "He'd never--"  
  
"He's starving," John replies, because Rodney's still oblivious to the way the Wraith has gone paler, his hair looking dry and brittle, and his haunting feline eyes cloudy with pain. It's the way Steve looked, towards the end, right about when John started feeling bad for him. "It would kill two birds with one stone."  
  
Rodney sits there gaping at him, and John can read every emotion out of those damned expressive blue eyes. There's doubt and worry and guilt and hope all flashing by so fast that John's not even sure where they settle. But then Rodney nods. "It could work," he says.  
  
  


***

  
  
  
"I need to know what's happened with the Athosians. He's a Wraith Worshipper from another hive," John explains. "He might have other valuable information."  
  
"And what do I get out of helping you? These Athosians are not my concern. And they are barely yours."  
  
"You  _get_  some of my trust."  
  
The Wraith laughs a dry wheezing chuckle. "You'll never trust me to do anything except perhaps kill an enemy or a stranger before I'd kill you."  
  
"You'd kill me? And here I thought we were getting along."  
  
The Wraith narrows his eyes. "The human you call Kolya tortured us both. Me, he denied food, as you are denying me now. You, he let me feed off of until your people did what he desired. And now, you wish to use me in the same way."  
  
John doesn't want to hear it. He especially doesn't need to hear a morally superior lecture from a  _Wraith_. "Would you rather I let you die of starvation?"  
  
"I'd rather you let me go."  
  
"You know I can't do that."  
  
The Wraith shrugs. "If you're going to sacrifice someone, it might as well be your enemies."  
  
"I'm glad you approve. I'm not asking that you torture him. I know you can see his thoughts while feeding."  
  
The Wraith smirks. "Do you know what I saw in you?"  
  
John forces down a shudder. "No. And I don't want to."  
  
The Wraith nods. "Then bring in the prisoner so I may feed."  
  
  


***

  
  
  
"I've got an address," John says, sitting down next to Teyla at lunch for the first time in a while.  
  
"My people?" Teyla looks more hopeful than John even imagined.  
  
"I don't know if they're still there or if--" John trails off when Teyla throws herself out of her seat to embrace him, bringing their foreheads together.  
  
"Thank you, John. You cannot imagine -- How did you find them?"  
  
John pulls back, suddenly flushed and ashamed, rubbing the sudden ache in his chest where he remembers the Wraith ripping the years from him, the slight tinge of regret in Kolya's voice when he said that he didn't want to have to do this, only have Elizabeth cave to his demands. "I have my ways."


	5. Rodney McKay

"I can't," John says, knowing full well that there's moisture gathering behind his eyelids for the first time in a long time and there's nothing he can do to stop it. He knows that Rodney won't get it. Rodney's desperate and emotional and flinging himself into the selflessness that he thinks is so contrary to his nature in his usual panicked frenetic way.  
  
It's as though Rodney can only bring himself to be brave when he forgets that he's styled himself a coward. And when Rodney's like this, he's trapped in his own wave of intense emotion, and completely unreachable. He won't understand what losing him would do to John. John's seen it already. The crystal entity showed it to him, and it's not pretty. Rodney is family. He's more than family. He's something precious and unique and absolutely irreplaceable, not just because he's the smartest man in two galaxies, but because if he dies, John knows that he'll never have a friend like Rodney again. And he's not sure he can live with that.  
  
"I'm sorry." He's sorry for Jeanie, and Kaleb, and Madison, and Rodney, and what this might do to their friendship. He's sorry for a lot of things, but he just can't.  
  
Rodney takes a deep breath. He nods. "I'm sorry too." And before he knows it, Rodney's fist is flying at his face. John's trained, yes, and if he were expecting it, he'd have Rodney face down on the floor in seconds, but the last thing he'd ever expect is for Rodney McKay to try and hurt him.  
  
  


***

  
  
  
When John comes to, he has a hell of a blinding headache and what feels like a monster of a bruise developing across his back and tailbone. None of that matters though, the second he realizes what just happened. He vaults up off the hard concrete floor and makes a run for the labs, even though he's so dizzy he can barely see which corridor he's racing down.  
  
The bulkhead door is painted an innocuous blue and seems to take an eternity to open compared to the quick swish of the doors on Atlantis. "Rodney!" he shouts, charging forward.  
  
The Wraith is standing there at a computer terminal. He's the only one standing, and yet despite the fact that all of the guards have been incapacitated, he's hard at work programing.  
  
"Where's McKay?" John pants, even though the retched sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach tells him the answer.  
  
"He spoke of family and if there was anyone I cared about enough to sacrifice everything for. If would gladly give my life for my hive, or my queen, and I would drain my reserves near empty for a brother in dire need, but I would not do what he did."  
  
John wants to spit in the Wraith's face. He wants to slam him up against the wall and drive a knife into his gut for the dry heap of bones he can see just out of the corner of his eye. He'll scream. Or maybe he'll walk hollowly onwards, even knowing that his life will never be the same.  
  
"It was an honorable thing," the Wraith says. "And I am sorry that it came to that."  
  
An apology is the last thing that John was expecting, and it's the last thing he needs. He nods vacantly, walking out of the room an empty man, apologies like ashes in the air around him.


	6. John Sheppard

"I'm sorry," John says, fixing Rodney with one last desperate stare before turning numbly and walking away.  
  
Rodney is an irreplaceable member of his team, and the key to protecting the people of Atlantis and by extension the billions on Earth and spread across the planets of the Pegasus Galaxy. There is no way that Rodney can sacrifice himself, and yet if Jeanie dies, Rodney won't be able to live with himself and the same result will have been achieved.  
  
And even if Rodney were to sacrifice himself, where would that leave his sister? His niece without her only uncle and IOA with a load of guilt to lay on thick to persuade another McKay into the Stargate program. And Jeanie would do it too, because despite the soft feminine curves and the June Clever household, she's just like her brother in so many ways. If it's between staying home and giving her child the mom she deserves and keeping that child and all the other children of Earth safe from the Wraith in her brother's stead, John knows what she'd choose.  
  
But John knows Rodney, too, and John telling him no isn't going to stop him from doing what he thinks is the right thing. And Rodney's a member of John's team. He's John's friend. And so, it's John's duty to protect him, even if it's only from himself.  
  
And yet there's nobody John can ask to make this sacrifice for him. Maybe if Wallace hadn't committed suicide two hours ago, John would've asked him. But, Jeanie needs help  _now_  and John's not the kind of man who can just ask for volunteers for a suicide mission - not if he's not leading the mission himself.  
  
He doesn't have a family other than Rodney and Ronon and Teyla. But they have each other. They're survivors who can go on without him. John's good at his job, but the SGC is full of experienced officers. Now that they've got Samantha Carter running things, John's not concerned that they'll run the expedition into the ground without him. In this situation, he's the most expendable.  
  
And the truth is that when he told Teyla that he'd give his life for any one of them, he wasn't lying, because he loves them all so much that he thinks that he'll burst from not saying it sometimes. He'd give his life for Rodney's. He'd give his life for Jeanie's, too, not just because she's Rodney's sister, but because she's the only innocent in all this, and what is the job of a soldier if not to protect the innocent?  
  
So he takes a deep breath, trying not to think about how his breaths are now numbered, and walks numbly down the corridor to the lab.  
  
"Give me five minutes," John orders the three Airmen standing inside.  
  
They look skeptical, but the good thing about soldiers is that they do follow orders. "Yes, Sir."  
  
"Are you here to say you last goodbyes?" the Wraith asks. "Humans beg for it sometimes. Before a feeding, they'll beg to see their loved ones one last time."  
  
"You're not a loved one," John replies. "And I'm not here to say goodbye." His hand is shaking, so he sticks it in his pants pocket. "You kept your promise before. Can I count on you to keep it again?"  
  
The Wraith looks up. There is emotion in his eyes, but its so alien as to be completely indecipherable. "I will always keep my word to you, John Sheppard. Even though I might kill you in battle one day, it will be an honest death."  
  
John can't help a sickly nervous laugh at that. How appropriate that even the Wraith has hopes that there's an escape from this. "That's not why I'm here."  
  
John can't bring himself to say it without letting his voice wobble or his fear shine through. Contrary to popular belief, he's never had a death wish. In fact, he's gone above and beyond simply to survive. But at the same time, he's never expected to put death off until he's ninety-seven in a rocking chair. If he's going to die, it will be on his terms, and his terms are not to go quietly into the good night, another tick on death's tally, but trade his in for some else who the world needs a hell of a lot more.  
  
So he reaches out and takes the Wraith's hand in his own, feeling the skin so smooth and deceptively silky beneath his, before bringing it to hover over his chest. "Promise me you'll save her."  
  
"I promise," the Wraith says, yanking John's shirt up and pressing his hand down gently. John feels a series of jolts, fiery and sensitive like kisses, the enzyme flooding his system until he can see nothing but bright euphoria.  
  
The Wraith's voice is a soothing whisper on the surface of his mind: This won't hurt. John is surprised to find that it doesn't.


	7. Aeareth

"What?" he asks, pulling sticky eyelids open very slowly. He doesn't recognize this place, but then again, he doesn't seem to recognize anything. He searches his memory for his name, looking down at pale and unfamiliar hands and running them across the corse fibers of a white blanket. His hair is white too, long and messy when he reaches up to touch it. Even his touch seems disjointed and unfamiliar.

He is just about to stand and explore this strange place when a man steps out from behind the curtain surrounding his bed. "Hello," he says. "My name is John Sheppard."

"John Sheppard," he tries it out on his tongue. His teeth seem to get in the way somehow, making the words slurred and barely comprehensible.

John smiles, though. "How are you feeling?"

"Who am I? What am I doing here?" he asks.

"Your name is Aeareth. You are here because you asked to be, and I promise that I'll tell you everything after you've had more time to rest."

Aeareth panics then, noticing the figures standing outside the curtain, moving like shadow beings and menacing. "We're being watched," he says, knowing that as much as he wants to, he might not be able to trust this man.

"I know," John replies, giving him another gentle smile. "It's just a precaution. You'll understand why when I show you this video I have for you a little later on."

"What do you want from me?" Aeareth asks, because as nice as this man seems, there must be an agenda. If he knows anything in his blood and bones, it's not to grasp at the first truth he sees.

"I want you to remember."

Aeareth's stomach picks that moment to clench and growl. He looks down at it confused for a moment before he processes the feeling. "I'm hungry."

John grins, retreating behind the curtain and returning with a tray filled with what Aeareth's nose tells him is food. "Here, eat this. Stick with me, and you'll never go hungry again."


End file.
